


On The Border of East and West

by Vermiurge



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Adventure, F/F, Fictional Laws, Fictional language, Glacial Pace, Lots of dialogue, Strong Language, Travel, Truly an absurd amount of talking going on, Worldbuilding, and lots of it so that's why M rating, fictional countries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:12:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermiurge/pseuds/Vermiurge
Summary: They take a week long vacation to some place far off and exotic every year. This time it's Marina's turn to pick. She falls in love with the idea of a jungle adventure, so they pack up and fly out to a small country in Central Cordilla. Marina has it all planned and Pearl is really just along for the ride.





	1. Give It To Me Straight, Doc

“Ms. Houzuki. So glad you could make it today.”

Dr. Shogawa gave a half-hearted attempt at pleasantries the moment she walked through the door. If Pearl heard, she made no indication. Pearl was nervous; reasons being twofold. She hated clinics, a sentiment she was certain is common.  No one liked being so close to the idea that they weren’t in perfect health. Reason two sat next to her on one of the molded plastic chairs situated between the medical couch and the scale. Marina voiced a soft confirmation to the doctor, making up for the fact that Pearl didn’t even look in her direction.

Shogawa wasn’t Pearl’s “normal” doctor but it was the one the clinic kept assigning for Pearl’s more in-depth checkups. While she was cordial and professional, Pearl attempted every visit to schedule someone else. The clinic didn’t yield from their draconian protocol for assigning same-sex doctors to anything beyond a stethoscope to the chest. She didn’t know the director of this place, but it also didn’t bother her enough to track him down for a patented Pearl Ear-full.

“Well if you want to begin, start by taking off your shirt and bra.”

Marina barely had time to twitch before Pearl stared her down from jumping up to help. This was Marina’s first time for this whole procedure. Probably for visiting a clinic too, with how she looked like she couldn’t decide where to situate herself at any given moment. So, she sat; mouth in a polite smile.

“How have you been feeling today?” Dr. Shogawa tried to instigate conversation with her patient again. “Anything you feel you should report?”

Finally rolling her collar clear of her head, Pearl started working on the bra straps. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. I’m fine. I’ve been fine every day for the last few months.”

“I know. You’ve said as such during our last visit together, and the one before that.”

“Yet here we are.” Pearl was feeling dangerously snippy with the clinic staff today.

“Mmhmm.” Dr. Shogawa had already tuned out her complaints. “I’ll just note that as ‘Patient belligerent; refuses to cooperate’” Shogawa had her own rap sheet of snide comments to Pearl despite their infrequent interactions.

Pearl considered her options. “I had a small headache yesterday and a cold sweat on Wednesday.”

“That all?” Shogawa seemed visibly surprised her faux gambit paid off. “Yes.”

“Well the cold sweat we could probably disregard. Common from stress, even minor stress. The headache, however. Was it familiar at all? Anything that would line up if your past experiences?”

Pearl rolled around the memories in her head. “No. I think this was because I was dehydrated and tired. It wasn’t the full headaches I used to have.”

“Well if that’s truly all then I think this visit will be short for all of us.” Dr. Shogawa said, fully giving Marina a once-over for the first time since entering.

The physical portion was short. A quick rotation of the stethoscope around Pearl’s chest, hitting all the important spots. Lungs for wheezing, hearts for afib and arrythmia, and stomach for any unusualness. And because Shogawa liked touching Pearl with a cold metal disc, at least that’s how Pearl interpreted the good doctor’s thoroughness. Shogawa signaled the beginning of the next portion by placing the instrument away and motioning for her to sit at the end of the couch.

The scar was in full view now and this is why Pearl hated clinics. It had been a decade since the accident and half as long since Pearl dealing with it in a healthier fashion but her parents insisted she get frequent checkups on the damage. They bank rolled it. Which shut Pearl up on the money side but every visit, every six months, gives her more ammunition to tell them to not bother. Her outer injury had been dealt with ad nauseum and she was ready to get her Monday afternoons, every January and July, back. 

Pearl could hear Marina fidget. This was the other thing. She and Marina had been dealing with this by themselves for as long as they’ve been together. And they’ve handled it fine if Pearl said so herself. Why should it be such a Cod damn deal to everyone but her? And Marina being here made it all the more dramatized. They dealt with this at home all the time with little to no problem but her being here for the checkup ascribed too much ritual and importance. Pearl dreaded any conversation that was going to inevitably happen back home.

Shogawa’s voice pulled Pearl out of her head. She turned an eye and ear back to where she was. “Repeat that?”

“Do you feel anything when I do this?” Shogawa pinched an inch of Pearl’s back where the tangle of scarring was at it’s thickest. Pearl sure felt it, but it was admittedly dull. Like someone was pinching her through a blanket, except the blanket was her skin. “Yeah kinda, Doc. It still feels dull like it always does.” Considering she and Shogawa did this like clockwork, the doctor was willing to leave it at that. “Well it seems the underlying nerves and mucosal well is truly dead. Only the partially intact nerves seem to pick up anything.” Pearl had heard this before but not from Shogawa. It almost caught Pearl off-guard with what felt like actual interest in the medical side of Shogawa’s touchy feely sessions.

Marina leaned in for her own quick look as the sudden medical terminology piqued her interest. Marina has seen her scars before. Many, many times. But all this pomp and circumstance over them caused her to see them in a new light it feels. Pearl could feel Marina’s eyes crawling across her back. The pallid of her skin with the angry pink of the scarring as it wound in organic patterns down her back and side. Pearl recalled seeing her scars for the first real time.

At the center of impact was miniature lightning bolts of seared flesh as the current flowed into her. They traveled an inch, two in some places, before they hit the mucosal well underneath her skin. From there the scar formed a blossoming organic pattern of soft hexagonal curves, tracing an outline of her dermal patchwork on her entire back right side.

“I’ve heard those terms before, but I don’t know what they are.” Oh no. Marina is gaining an academic interest. Shogawa looked Pearl directly in the eye, almost as if asking permission for the lecture. Pearl just shifted her attention to the insurance poster on the wall next to the door. That half answer was enough.

“Well nerves are-,”

“No, I know what nerves are.” It was rare when Marina cut off anyone besides Pearl. Seemed like someone accidentally insulted someone’s intelligence. “What is the mucosal well?”

Shogawa recovered a bit from her misstep and addressed Marina directly this time. “Well you see these lines right here?” Her finger traced one of the hexagonal outlines. “This is the mucosal well-“

“Ah! So that’s the Inklish word for rek- I mean- Ah, I see. I guess I was familiar, I just didn’t know the name. We used a different word where I come from.” Two for two on the interruptions. Marina seemed worked up. In a good way. In a Marina way. “They’re the special ink that binds the-… skin sheets… together.” Marina had been incredibly diligent on her ISL learning ever since they met, a process Pearl herself has had a heavy hand in, but it appears medical terminology escapes her. It never seemed to come up.

“Dermal Patchwork.” If the doctor was irked at all from being stopped twice now, Pearl couldn’t tell. She was cool as ice. “Yes, thank you.” Marina caught on to her behavior. She smoothed it over by playing it off. “I learned some basic stuff back in… school, but I’m more of a gearhead.” This seemed to play over well with Shogawa; the doctor dropping whatever she might have said. “Yeah, I’ve seen your work. I’m usually in the stands during Splatfests, far out of the splash zones. Your work on Shifty Station is miraculous.” This game of verbal fencing Pearl isn’t even sure they’re having seems to have put Marina off her rhythm.

“Oh, that’s just because Shifty Station is where my two passions combine. I get a chance to put some old skills to the test for the good of Splatfest.” Coming from anyone but Marina that would be a humblebrag. Shogawa took this chance to pull the conversation back into the reason for the visit. “Like I was saying before, the scarring has more or less solidified a large portion of the mucosal well along your back.” She says, motioning back to Pearl. “The feeling is deadened, movement and transformation can be restricted, but you both know that.” Shogawa was testing the limits of Patient Confidentiality. Pearl figured the doctor took her non-opposition as carte blanche for talking more in-depth. Marina still looked unsatisfied. “I understand movement but why transformation?”

“Because the mucosal well is the most important part of transformation. You remember how I said the well had hardened?” Shogawa was getting worked up in a Marina way now. “It’s not rigid like rubber or silicone but even a little hardening like what electricity burns can do to ink causes the whole process to be more strenuous.” Marina looked like she was actually following along, unlike Pearl’s first forty explanations of her condition.

“Flexing the right set of muscles is learned by three or four for Inklings and that pulls the dermal patches free, allowing rearrangement into squid form. All while the mucosal well itself gets liquified to allow for the smaller surface area. Pearl can still transform but it _is_ harder for her. And it makes passing through squid permeable materials harder on her body as well.”

Shogawa pumped the brakes on her exposition, returning to the level of lethargy she normally inhabited. She turned to Pearl as if to say, ‘sorry for spilling’, but Pearl brushed it off. “Yeah it’s ok. This is most of the reason I needed to bring Marina along today anyway. Let her know more about my shi- stuff.”

“How does the mucosal well liquify?” Marina asked further.  
“You must be a pleasure to have in class.” Shogawa sighed and then straightened. “Imagine that the complex threads of proteins that make up somatic ink is yarn. And that yarn makes a sweater that is knit in a very intricate and specific pattern and that when given the right stimulus, can unravel and then reknit. The science behind ink protein denaturation can literally fill bookshelves so excuse me if we stop right there.” She looked drained after that one. Shogawa perked up more and turned back to Pearl.

 “The focus of today’s physical was also to give you a cleaner bill of health. I’m operating on faith that you’ve been taking your medications as instructed, when instructed, yes?”  
“Yeah. The painkillers whenever I have head pain of any sort over a 2 on the pain scale and the anti-inflammatories whenever I get discomfort in my back.”

“Good.” Shogawa would almost be pleased if this wasn’t the same line, word for word, Pearl fed her the last three visits. “I’ve spoken to your dermatologist and he’s written a prescription for a new salve he wants you to try. Cutting edge stuff.”  Pearl reached for the slip of paper she held out but before she could grab at it, Shogawa walked and placed it with Pearl’s other belongings on the counter. A silent indicator to put her shirt back on before taking anything. “So that just about covers it.”

Pearl got presentable once again and pocketed her phone and the prescription slip. The long form name of the salve was beyond her and probably Marina. Sulphur something. Probably smells nasty. And really greasy. She contained her grimace. Marina wrapped up her small conversation with Dr. Shogawa, waved her off, and made her way out the door. “Meet you outside, I need to use the restroom.” And with that she left.

Shogawa, fully out of doctoring mode, slinked up behind Pearl and leaned on the counter like she was about to gossip her mouth off.

“So… San Germaine.” She began with no explicit question but still expecting an answer. Pearl avoided eye contact because she both did and did not know where she was going with this, instead opting to zip up her Enperry hoodie halfway through the logo. Quickly realizing she wasn’t going to get out of this, Pearl stole a glance at Shogawa’s face. Slightly smug but still under that disinterested layer. Paradoxical.

“Yeah,” Pearl started, feeling out where she wants to steer this. “No concerts, just visiting.”  
“I hear it’s beautiful. Not my first choice when visiting Central Cordilla but it has its charm.”  
“I didn’t really pick it. Marina did. We only get a solid week off once a year and I picked last year so she picked this time. Wants to see the mountains. Big ones. I made a deal though; only one trail and the rest of the trip is within city limits.”  
“I thought you liked adventure.” Shogawa’s coy was starting to overpower her lethargy. Pearl could only imagine what she was like at home or with friends.

“Well I do but I only argue that hard for the cameras. Hiking is kinda a tough sell for me and doubly so when it’s in foreign countries.” Nantai was the highest mountain she had ready access to and even then, half the walk up was on well established trails with amenities and benches. The only taxing part was the last few hops up to her private screaming grounds.

“But still,” Shogawa coos. “Plenty of sun and a nice hotel. And exotic people.”  
“I’m lookin forward to it as much as Marina but a fifteen-hour flight is a long way from home.”  
“Oh? And where did you go last year if you don’t mind me asking?”  
“Prateria. Did some sight-seeing, visited some ruins, ate around in chic little cafés in Rema.”  
“That’s just as far as San Germaine.”  
“Nuh uh. Two-hour difference.”  
“Pedantry.”  
“It’s pedantry that makes my point. Rema is a bustling metropolis like Inkopolis. I’m a city girl at heart. The capital of San Germaine is like ¼ the size and we’re not even staying near downtown. It’s gonna be a little two-story place 10 minutes out. The final road leading to it is made of dirt for Cod’s sake.”  
“Can’t be all that bad. After all, you’re buying are you not?”  
“Well yeah. I don’t skimp. I got the cash.”  
“Then as your doctor, I order you to unwind.  You’ve been tense.”

You aren’t my doctor, Pearl thought about saying. And since when did this conversation become about Pearl’s mental health?

“So just a quick rundown. Don’t get too much sun, take your pills, hydrate, use the salve as directed, and I want you to call this clinic as soon as anything comes up or as soon as you get back. Whichever comes first. Your neurologist hasn’t contacted me about anything urgent and your headaches are down, so I officially sign off on this trip. Have fun.”

Shogawa waved her out the door. Pearl stood in the hallway and, with a sigh, collected herself. Marina just popped back into the hallway some doors down. Pearl shuffled down towards her and they both walked, arms linked, back to ground floor and to the parking lot. Marina beat Pearl to the punch.

“She seemed nice.”  
“You haven’t been in a room with her for longer than ten minutes. Trust me when I say that that was the fastest in and out I’ve ever had with her. What I don’t understand is how can someone be so disinterested _and_ nosy at the same time?”  
“She’s looking out for you. And from the sounds of it, a lot of people are. I want to start accompanying you more often on these checkups.” Marina gave Pearl an earnest look of compassion that she couldn’t turn down. “Fine, but the next one won’t be until well after we get back.” Pearl was less than enthusiastic. Next was most likely her neurologist and with that came scans. Lots of them. But like she said, her headaches have been down, in intensity and frequency, for the last few months. The new meds felt like they were working.

They finally reached their car in the garage. It was an aging ’97 Coroika Compact, the first car Marina purchased after coming to Inkopolis. She kept the innards and tires in good repair, but Pearl suspected if she didn’t bankroll the paint job, it would still be that ugly peeling teal that she first saw it in. Sometimes Marina was too thrifty. That or she just didn’t care about the looks; Pearl couldn’t tell.

Pearl strapped herself in and started fishing for something good on the radio. Marina pulled out of the parking garage and out into the highway back to downtown. “Keep an eye out for someplace good.” That was code for Marina probably had lots of work going over their remaining cutting room floor mixes and she doesn’t want either of them wasting time cooking. Pearl suppressed a groan. They had a full day tomorrow as well but Marina, workaholic she was, didn’t want downtime while the workweek was still young.

Pearl wanted sleep more than anything.


	2. Meet and Greet

They were the first to arrive.

Pearl checked her phone before stuffing it back into her hoodie. No texts and they were usually more prompt than this. Marina had already run off to eye the pies sitting behind the displays near the cash register; already intent on deciding dessert before they’d had a chance to order. Which was just as well since this allowed Pearl the chance to just _be_ for the first time since waking up today. Her normal general practitioner gave her a set of breathing exercises to mitigate stress as that was one of the major factors of her symptom flareups. So Pearl sat. And she breathed.

In. Hold.

Out. Hold.

In.                         Hold.

Out.                      Hold.

I-

She was slightly startled by someone taking the side of the booth across from her. It wasn’t Marina, but their other guests who finally decided to show.

“Sorry we’re late. 4 and 8 weren’t ready when we got there so it took a bit.” Callie slid down the long circular booth seat until she was at the midpoint, leaving about a person’s width between her and Pearl. A maroon inked Octoling slid next, almost squishing up to Callie. Aranea, as 8 chooses to go by, offered her a small “Hey”, before settling in. A green Inkling wearing the gaudiest silkscreen tee Pearl had ever seen followed, leaving about the same room. Pearl was good with names but hers was only mentioned once and this is the second time ever meeting her. Pearl knew she roomed with Aranea and hung out with her and Callie in their super secret cool squids club but that was it. As soon as she planted, Pearl offered her hand in a show of initiative.

“Pearl. Off the Hook.”  
“Cymk. Slightly nervous.”  
“Are you always smarmy when meeting celebrities?”  
“I do when I’m nervous. I wasn’t kidding. Big fan. Of both of you.” Pearl followed her suddenly straying eyes and saw that Marina was back. She took her seat next to Pearl and made her scootch outward to give room for their final guest. Marie took her place next to Cymk, so gently, it felt like she wasn’t even there.

“What kind of name is Cymk? Never heard of it and I’ve heard a lot of names.”  
“It’s a slight bastardization of a name where my family is from. It’s Carpathian.”  
“Oh? If you were foreign, I couldn’t tell. Spot on accent.”  
“Oh I’m not. I’m native to here. Third generation Carpathian. Bunica is the only one in the family that still remembers anything of the old country.”

Their little conversation seemed to clear some air. Pearl was friends with everyone here, but she knew nothing about Cymk aka “4”. This whole luncheon was to touch base with their friends before their big trip this weekend. Small talk seemed to break out like wildfire. Marina holding a conversation with Aranea and Callie while Pearl continued with Cymk, with Marie joining in soon enough. Wherever Cymk was, Marie was sure to follow or vice versa. The server eventually approached with a pad and pen to jot orders down.

“So where exactly are you guys going?” Both Callie and Marie asked a variation of the question mere seconds apart. Marina took this opportunity to pull something out of her bag. It was a creased map that had reached “well loved” status in the month that she’s owned it. Red circles and arrows dotted it marking places of interest and stops.

“San Germaine. It’s a small country in Central Cordilla. It’s going to be a long plane trip over and a long drive to the hotel we’ll be staying at once we touch down.” Marina’s finger slid from what Pearl assumed to be the airport on the inset detail map of the capital, all the way over to the border on the inset. A red circle lay there without any symbol on the map, but Pearl took it on faith that that’s where the hotel was.

“The hotel’s called Casa do Sol. A celebrity hotspot. It’s supposed to have a lot of great points of interest within short driving distance. And here,” Marina points to a spot not on the detail inset. “Is Mt. Carinatus. On the third day, we’re going to a trailhead,” Marina shifted another inch south. “We aren’t going to the peak because- “  
“Because I would die.” Pearl cuts in. “We’re already going halfway which is like a four-hour hike in and four hours back. The full trail is like eight or nine and basically requires you to camp. Not on my life.”  
“It would be tough on me too so we’re calling it at four hours or whenever we get too tired. Whichever comes first.” Marina finished for Pearl.

Marina kept up her spiel and Pearl took a backseat. San Germaine, San Germaine; the capital city, is going to be taking up their first real day there. Hitting up highly reviewed local cuisine, the Camaruco Natural History Museum, the central bazaar; the list goes on. Marina also insists that they visit the ports. It wouldn’t be Marina if she didn’t.

Second day, they’re going to be touring some of the satellite cities that dot the landscape around the capital. They aren’t quite going to the border, but they’ll be coming close given how small the country is. Marina is going to be driving for the vast majority of that day so she’s getting first pick on all activities and places to eat. Since the trip is mostly going to be on Pearl’s dime, she demanded an off-road SUV with bombass air-conditioning from the rental service they’re using or so help her Cod, she was going to drag that rental to a shop and make them put one in.

Third day is the hike. Mt. Carinatus. Rododendro Falls trail on the south side. Four hours in, rest for an hour, four hours out. That’s Pearl’s ideal hike. Given she’ll be laden with a backpack her size and almost as heavy, she’ll need more rests probably, which means it’ll probably be five hours in and out. Pearl grimaced at the though. At least the main attraction of the hike is at the two-hour mark so they’re sure to at least reach there before possibly turning around. The brochure said that Rododendro Falls is the highest falls in the country, so it better be majestic.

Fourth day is cool down from the hike. They’ll probably be sore and tired so they’re going to be milling around the hotel grounds, taking in the sites. They have a central garden with select species that represent the country, mostly flowers. The website also said there would be a special event happening that day to commemorate some local holiday. No mention of what that is but it has something to do with the country’s national pastime. Then a fancy hotel dinner with music accompaniment.

Fifth and final full day. One final proper loop around the city, picking up souvenirs for everyone and arranging shipping home if they end up too big for plane luggage. This is also when Pearl’s plans on visiting the Bazaar the second time to purchase perishables such as fresh food and spices for home. She’s going to make out like a bandit with their supply because if there’s anything Pearl it a self-admitted slut for, it’s spice.

The Squid Sisters and Agents have been dutifully listening this whole time with not a peep, but Pearl could tell they were happy if a little envious of Marina and her plans. Cymk spoke up first once they realized the briefing ended. “You guys gonna take some pics? I’d love to see some of this place up close.”

“Duh. I’m bringing my good camera and I’m going to teach Pearlie how to take pictures without her thumb as the focus.” Marina giggled as Pearl gave a mock sneer. Callie spoke up next. “Oh oh, can my souvenir be a keychain? I’m in the market for a new one. My old one’s strap broke.”  
“Uh sure. Not sure how big Central Cordilla is on keychains but it’s a popular enough tourist spot, they might have one.” Pearl replied. Furthermore, would they have cutesy animal keychains like Callie actually likes? “Alright, any other requests I guess?”

“Uumm.” A soft mousy reply came from next to Cymk. Aranea had spoken for the first real time since getting here. “Can mine be new [boots]? Thick ones. [Rugged].” Aranea is getting better with her Inklish but she sometimes slips back into Octarian when she forgets a word, knowing Marina would understand. “[Sure. Anything you want, baby.]” Marina replied. Pearl wasn’t sure what she said but it makes Aranea beam slightly, which made her feel better.

Aranea had lived with them for some time after the subway incident and Marina, despite only being a few years older, took on an almost Mother-Child bond with her. It was infectious since Pearl got one too. Aranea moved out after about half a year to Off the Hook’s dismay but she insisted she couldn’t be so reliant. They cover whatever Aranea can’t with her earnings she gets from working with Cymk. It made Aranea feel better as she was giving it her damnedest, and it made Marina and Pearl feel better as they still supported her from afar.

“Anything for you, Marie?” Pearl asked. Marie rolled an idea around in her head. It culminated in a “Surprise me” and a knowing smile. Pearl felt this was Marie talk for ‘how well do you know me?’ to which there is wrong answers. Pearl couldn’t wait to see how she ranked.

“How about you, bud?” Pearl shifted back to Cymk. “Photos are nice but we’re taking those anyway. How about something more solid?” Cymk stirred in her seat with a look of somebody about to ask for something dirty. “Can you-,” She started then stalled. “Can you find a way to get me a really pink flower? I don’t think taking plants is legal especially since this country looks like it’ll lock you up for trying.” Oh ho. Pearl wasn’t expecting that. She glanced to her right. Marina was absorbed in catching up with Aranea and Callie.

“Why the sudden interest in botany?”  
“I wouldn’t say it’s sudden but it’s not the plant itself I’m interested in. I want the color. Pictures are great and all, but there are certain intensities that cameras as we know them can’t reproduce. I need the actual color in front of me.” Pearl looked down at her intensely vibrant tee-shirt and realized where she was going with this.

“You make that shirt?” Pearl asked, already knowing the answer. Cymk was thrown off by the sudden shift. “Uh yeah. I work in printing and I silkscreen as a hobby.” Bingo. “Weeeellll. Taking local flora is a bit risky but maybe I could do something. Options open up in life once you’re past a certain level of wealth and fame.” Cymk seemed giddy at the prospect. “Oh, oh wait! While you’re at it can you get me a really deep shade of blue?! Doesn’t have to be a flower, I just need blue.” Pearl admired the girl’s enthusiasm. “Sure, why the hell not.”

The food they ordered during their rundown finally arrived. They’d all gotten some variety of breakfast food. Eggs; hash browns; toast slathered in jam, butter, or both; veggie scrambles; name it, they ordered it. Mildred’s was an old timey all-day breakfast place and they knew how to specialize. Pearl really dug this place. Shame that it’s so far from the studio that it makes justifying coming here for late lunch or dinner after work hard.

Everyone at the table decided that was enough talk and finally dug in. Pearl assumed most of them haven’t eaten yet today; Aranea most of all. That girl knew how to skip meals without even noticing and Pearl was hoping that she kicked that habit when she moved out.

Two intensely white forms hovered by their table and when Pearl finally noticed, she jumped. Out of surprise and out of her seat. “Wassup, bitches!” Pearl went above a dull roar as several tables turned to see the commotion. Pearl hung off the neck of a much taller inkling in a white coat while a shorter one in matching fashion stood slightly behind. “Keep it down. People are staring.” He said with what would be a stern and imposing presence if he didn’t have Pearl doing her best at a bear hug.

“Yo guys,” Pearl turned back to the table that hadn’t moved an inch since they showed up. “These are my bros. Emperor and Prince, say hi.” Emperor gave a miniscule smile and a half wave while Prince seemed to lean into it more. Pearl dislodged herself from Emperor’s neck and twisted Prince’s down for a hug of his own. Marie was the first to speak. “Your brothers are X rank legends?” Callie was more confused than her cousin. “You have family?! You didn’t just spawn from a subsurface goblin cave?” Pearl, not even looking, replied with a rude hand gesture she hoped Aranea wouldn’t copy.

“Duh. Houzuki excellence is in their blood. There’s only so much talent in Inkopolis that we don’t have a hand in.”

“Braggart. Besides, we don’t exactly advertise our full names. Privacy aside, it keeps the armchair critics away from claiming Prince and I didn’t earn our spot.” Emperor replied. “Pearl does the same.” At that, Pearl narrowed her eyes at him and gave a curt neck slice to indicate that topic was off limits. Emperor only smiled in return but kept his mouth shut. Prince stepped forward to shake hands with Marie and then worked his way in a round down the seating arrangement. “It’s so good to finally meet most of you. You’d be surprised how much Pearl talks about all of you.” He briefly paused during his shake with Cymk, unsure about her presence but continued on with a polite greeting anyway.

“So what brings you to this humble establishment anyway? You guys were never the type for mom and pop businesses. Name brand all the way.”  
“Siblings can’t visit their big sister before her grand adventure?” Emperor’s patronage could kill a shark. “Mmhmm. Feelin the love. Just like home.”  
“Well you hit the nail on the head. Mom and Pop. Home.” Emperor produced a rather thick manila envelope from Cod knows where. Ink drained from Pearl’s face at noticing the letterhead and the official seal that most people will never know. Houzuki Clan business and pretty official too. Pearl deflected. “If this is about them wanting to renovate my mansion again, they can forget it. I need those storage rooms. For stuff.”  
“Oh I doubt it is. But then again, I know nothing. I’m just the messenger.”  
“I’m not reading this right now. Kinda in middle of something. You know, friendship n’ shit. Alien concept, I know, but give it a try some time.”  
“Well you don’t have to. They didn’t tell me it was time sensitive. They were going to have one of their personal couriers deliver this, but I told them I was going to see you today anyway. None more trustworthy than I.”  
“If it makes you feel any better,” Prince offered, “it doesn’t seem too important.”  
“Well it can double wait then. I have a vacation coming up. Speaking of which, me and Marina have work in, like, an hour. So we need to eat.”  
“Well our work is done. We need to talk more often without outside business getting in the way.”

Pearl got up again to pull both down to her level for one big group hug. Neither seemed pleased at being roughhoused but they gave their sister a pat to humor her. She placed a deliberately loud kiss on both their cheeks. They both wiped their face in unison, Emperor muttering to himself.

“Don’t give me that. You both used to love that.”  
“When we were _five_. Come on, Prince. We have off-season warmups.”  
“Love you, Pearl. Have a good one.” Prince said as he fell in line behind his brother.

Pearl waved them off. “Toodles.”

She looked back at the table. The eating stopped a while ago as everyone took everything in. “The little one seemed nice.” Cymk finally said. Pearl was glad she was along now. Real ice breaker. “Yeah. He takes after an uncle of mine. Meek but a heart of gold.” Pearl swizzled her huevos rancheros around as she spoke. “He didn’t seem _that_ meek. He actually stood pretty well next to the tall drink of water with a silver spoon up his ass you call a sibling.” Callie joined in. “Oh he’s doing a lot better over the past few years ever since joining Emperor’s team. The only reason he’s not a complete doormat is because Emperor and I made everything a competition with him so he could actually grow a beak. And what we couldn’t do, the assertiveness tutors tried to help on. Load of good they did.”

“Assertiveness tutors?” Marie seemed faux skeptical. “I can’t tell if that’s something I’m too poor to understand or too laid back to understand.”  
“You need to be a cold-blooded killer in the cutthroat world of high finance. Or at least that was my parents’ justification.”  
“Did you get a special tutor?”  
“For assertiveness? Nah, I was born with a splattershot in hand.”  
“Anything else then?”  
“Yeah. Math. Science. Geography. History. Singing.”  
“I can’t imagine you being a classically trained singer.”

Pearl hesitated. For a fraction of a second. Then it was gone. “Nah, arias and opera are too rich for my taste. Never vibed with me. But boy to I have an album for you to listen to- “  
“It had better not be what I think it is.” Marina stared Pearl down. “You know what that did to Aranea’s vocabulary for months.”  
“Yeah but Marie is a grown woman. She can handle a swear or two, right?”  
“I’m going to preemptively pass.”  
“Spoil sport.”

They decided to finish breakfast in earnest and Pearl picked up the check. Callie and Marie wrapped up Off the Hook in a weird four-way tangle hug. Aranea got the two to herself for a double bearhug. Marina took the time to give her one last goodbye. “Bye, baby. We’ll probably see you one more time before Friday but just in case, you have our emergency contacts _and_ the contacts of all our help services. You have the keycard to the mansion if you want to relax there for a while.” “Throw any dope ass parties you want; you know where the credit cards are.” Pearl interjected. “Within reason. Please just don’t break anything.”

“I will not. I am not really a party Octo. As well, I cannot afford to leave Cymk alone at the shop all week.”  
“Dude, we haven’t gotten a serious print job since Monday and the schedule is clear. Take a day off or two.” Cymk said, finally wrenching herself from her seat. Aranea was unconvinced. “You said that last time and then you got a full 1000-page job with binding and urgent shipping.”  
“Yeah and I’m telling you I can deal with you gone for a day or two.”

Pearl let them fight it out. It was good to see Aranea in good hands. Pearl bid her farewells waited as Marina lingered on hers. Shame they have to hustle with how little time is left before announcements. This place has great pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want the dialogue to flow better at the end but for now I'm stumped. Problems for tomorrow me.


	3. Live Studio Audience

“Another week of rotations is finished! Done-zo! We outta here!”  
“A note to our fans. We’re going to be on break next week and we’ll be back next Monday the 20th. Look forward to the special guest rotation announcers. We hand selected every one so you can rest assured you’ll be entertained the whole way.”  
“And with that, we done. And remember!”  
“Don’t get cooked!”  
“Stay Off the Hook!”

The feed cut; the prompter blanked. Pearl and Marina were free as birds. Normally they’d stick around to chat in the open studio. Wave at fans, do good PR, the works. It wasn’t contractually obligated, but the producers loved the impromptu fan interactions as it made them more grounded and most importantly, marketable. Pearl suspected their end-of-year bonuses might be influenced by how well they march to that rhythm. _But_ they had a vacation they scheduled months in advance to get to. Higher ups can suck it.

Marina was busy untangling herself from her wired equipment when she doubletaked and pointed out the window. Aranea was there pressed against the glass waving. Pearl suspects she still wasn’t aware of how conspicuous that was but whatever, it was so her. Marina waved her over to the side of the building. She knew what that meant after the first few times of being in the studio.

Aranea met them at the side entrance. She didn’t like being over here so close to subway entrances for obvious reasons, so they rushed her inside. What Pearl didn’t notice at first was she had company. Cymk was in tow and so was another inkling she had only seen once. During the statue thing. She showed up to make Aranea’s day worse before it got better. But it was also some mind control goo so whatever. She wore a nondescript basketball jersey with a 3 on it, a thin hoodie, and some deep blue lace-ups. Any sweatier or more out of breath and Pearl would swear they picked her up from a pickup game. Pearl decided to roll of the success of Cymk and introduce herself while Marina and the others ran forward into the break room.

“Pearl, Off the Hook.”  
“Trey, mildly annoyed.”  
“You all have a bit to do, don’t you?”  
“The bit does itself when you phrase your intro like that.”

Pearl wonders where they keep getting smartasses for acquaintances. “I guess what’s eating you, Seagrape?” Trey opened her mouth to rebut but swallowed whatever she was going to say about the nickname. “Just pissed. Aranea promised today was going to be an us day but Four invited herself knowing she would never say no. And now we’re here in a stuffy studio meeting her parents.”  
“Are you the enigmatic girlfriend we hear so much yet so little about?” Trey seemed off-put by that statement. “Does she really not talk about me?” Pearl waved off her thoughts. “Hush. I already said I heard a lot about you. She just never goes into specifics especially when I start going ‘Aranea and 3 sittin’ in a tree K-I-S-S-I- ‘” Pearl stopped her mocking tone and face mushing when Trey stopped it for her, shoving her face away. “Jeez, no wonder she left.” Trey stumbled a bit when she saw Pearl drop all pretense of playfulness she had seconds ago. “Oh Cod, that came out wrong.”

Pearl relented her gaze, satisfied. “Well I didn’t want to pull the imposing and overprotective parent schtick, but I just might if you’ve got a mouth like that.”  
“Look, I’m sorry. Just been having kind of a bad day today.”  
“Hey, I’m busting your beak. Chill. We have a fully stocked private break room, you want anything? Chips? Soda?”

They finally caught up to the rest who were chatting and giggling over drinks at the table. “Seltzer. If you have it.”  
“Wait, just straight soda water? You drink that medicinal crap?”  
“Four got me hooked, blame her.”

Cymk waved from the table. Trey flipped back. “You guys’re crazy. But whatever. Marina do we have any more of those?” Pearl pointed to Cymk’s bottle. “One more. They’re getting pretty dated. I think that 12 pack has been in there since we got this job. Almost all of them taken by Aranea since she’s been visiting.”  
“So that’s where she’s been burgling them to.” Pearl said, giving a knowing glance to Trey and Cymk. They both let their gaze wander anywhere but Pearl. “Well whatever, they needed to go.” She tossed the last one to Trey and grabbed a pack of spicy corn chips from the lower cupboards. She took her place in her cushy swivel chair. She had a second one placed in the break room since she couldn’t stand the way the normal chairs in here abraised her lower back.

“So, you two are the specters of Aranea. Silently standing vigil against the hordes that would do her ill.”  
“If that’s a way to phrase that we’re friends, then yeah. I guess.” Cymk said, giving the slightest roll of her eyes.  
“I’m a lyricist. I gotta wax poetic. Keeps me focused.”  
“Whatever. Anyway. We met a while ago under special circumstances.”  
“Kid, I was at the Subway Incident. I rapped with Grandpa Cuttlefish. I know about the Squidbeak Splatoon.”  
“Oh, uh. I actually meant Aranea covered my bill at Mako Mart and we hit it off. But yeah sure, let’s go with that.”  
“Pearlie, we’re not supposed to talk about that. You promised Craig.” Marina interjected.  
“Yeah but he made me promise when I was drunk. That’s like lesson number one on how _not_ to make a verbal contract. He was drunk, too so that’d like double inadmissible.”  
“But I wasn’t drunk, so you bet your crown I’m going to hold you to it.”  
“Yeah whatever, nerd. Anyway, you two.” Pearl motioned to the two inklings. “You guys have been wonderful to Aranea so far, so I trust you guys won’t get her killed while Marina and I are gone?”

Aranea choked on her cheddar popcorn at the subtle implication. “We are not reckless.” She said after coughing up a corn hull. Aranea usually didn’t lean so far into her accent unless she was flustered. Pearl would feel bad for heckling the poor girl if she didn’t enjoy hearing it so much. It reminded her of when she first met Marina and she barely spoke a lick of Inklish. Pearl giggled under her breath.

“Calm yourself. I’m joking. I just want to know if you two wouldn’t mind being there for her in case shit goes down while we’re gone. Big ‘IF’, but you never know.”  
“Yeah okay MOM.” It was Trey’s turn to aggressively roll her eyes.  
“Don’t challenge me because I _will_ adopt you too. That is a promise.” Pearl gave a sharky grin. Trey backed off, mulling over what that threat entails and not liking it.

“Ease off the gas sometime, Shortstop. You need to lose your edge.” Pearl had almost completely turned her chair to face Trey now. Trey took a pull from the soda water to break off any response she might have had. Pearl could tell she was used to being top bitch in the room and having someone stare down the barrel of her gun was throwing her off. “Well Technicolor over there and I had a good conversation the other day. What’s your story? What’s your day job?”  
“I legally can’t talk about it.”  
“So you just sit on your charging station like a good little robot until you’re called upon?”  
“Cod, what is with you? What’s it to you anyway?” Trey was fully on the defense.  
“I want to know what kind of person my daughter hangs out with so often.”

“She sleeps a lot. I had to drag her out of her apartment today.” Aranea answered for her. Trey looked like she was going to pop. “Can you not? Please!? Who the fuck are either of you, anyway? You’re not her actual parents so stop barging into this.” Pearl instinctively waved Marina back into her seat as she got out of hers. Marina has the patience of a monk but Aranea’s safekeeping was one of her buttons.

“Come.” Pearl beckoned with a finger as she walked out the door. “What?” Trey seemed apprehensive. “Unless you want this conversation to happen in front of a crowd, come on.” Pearl left the breakroom. Trey hesitated, giving one last look at an equally confused Aranea and Cymk, and followed out. Pearl lead her down the hall and a few doors down. When they got there, they were standing in the open studio. Pearl quickly drew the blinds for a bit more privacy than none at all.

“She really is out daughter, you know. That is a fact that Marina and I are damn proud of. We’ve had this conversation about three or so times before.” Trey seemed apprehensive of this whole setup, so she just let Pearl continue. “Once with my parents after they found out they were getting a 16-going-on-17 daughter out of nowhere. Once with Callie and Marie, though in a much lighter tone. We’re lucky to have them as such good friends compared to two years ago. And once more with our adoption agent. Once Aranea was ‘in the system’ as essentially an underage orphan, that raised a lot of flags.”

Trey uncorked whatever she was bottling. “How though? She’s not even legal.” Pearl gave a loud “HA”. “She’s been a legal immigrant since a few weeks after the subway incident.”  
“Again, how? Immigration takes years-,”  
“Listen kid. One thing you learn when you’re at the level of wealth I’m at is that money talks. I’ve had ‘Fuck You’ money since birth and have only gotten more since Off the Hook took off. Is it shitty that I fast-lane’d Aranea over dozens to hundreds of people with needs just as legit as Aranea’s? You bet. But tell me you wouldn’t do the same.” Pearl leaned back in her giant swivel chair. “But that’s neither here nor there. Right now, we’re talking about you.”

Trey placed her almost finished club soda at her feet. “I didn’t exactly come here to get the third degree by my friend’s mom.”  
“Well we’re here anyway so that plan is sunk. Seriously, what’s eating you kid? You’ve been fighting since the second you got here.”  
“Look, I just don’t really feel like unloading on someone I just met so I’ll pass. I say aggravating shit, I get that but, I’ve always had that problem. So just try to ignore the shit that comes out of my mouth.”  
“I would do that if you didn’t keep doing low blows with Aranea. Call me Shorty, call me Forehead, insult the way I dress, the way I talk, call me a stuck-up rich bitch who’s lost touch with reality but from now on, keep your comments about Aranea and our relationship with her to yourself. I can and have been ignoring it for today, but you saw Marina. She’s protective and has a license to kill so I can’t guarantee anything from her.”

Trey leaned back, stewing in the words. “I’ll try.”  
“Atta Girl. Ok dour shit over. Let’s go back. Don’t leave that bottle for the custodian.”

They walked two abreast back to the break room, which they heard laughter from, mostly Cymk’s from the sound of it but a weak Aranea could be heard. “One more thing,” Pearl said as she put her hand on the knob. “I see a lot of old me in you and that isn’t a good thing. Keep a handle on yourself even if you have to swallow a whole lot of pride to do it.”

Pearl flung the door open, making Aranea jump. “Alright bitches. Who wants one last soda before we gotta bounce?” Pearl made her way and flung open the fridge with the same energy and started pilfering some Dr. Squids. Marina checked her watch and jumped as well. “Oh Cod, I didn’t realize it was getting so late. We still have time, but we do need to start off soon.”

Cymk puzzled for a second. “You guys gotta sleep early for your flight tomorrow?” Pearl slid a can to everyone at the table and chucked one at Trey who still chose to stand. “Close. We need to be at the airport in like two hours.”  
Aranea stopped fidgeting with the pull-tab. “What! You are leaving tonight?”  
“Yeah sweetie. We’re doing a red eye to San Germaine. It’s a twelve-hour flight and we intend to be asleep for most of it.” Marina filled in. Cymk chuckled, “Can’t make it there faster? What is the family jet already out on loan?” Pearl fired back, “Yeah actually. Dad needed it for a conference in Albion. Should be available by the time we come home though.” Cymk sunk back, not really expecting her jab to be correct.

Pearl was content to drink and walk so she sat her soda down to give Aranea a big hug. “You guys are free to hang here for a bit more. The staff here know Aranea so just leave whenever. And leave it how you found it.” She brought Cymk in for a handshake while Marina said her goodbyes and with that, they left.  
  
They made it to the parking garage before Marina’s curiosity got the better of her. “So what _did_ you say to Three?”  
“Three? Oh, Trey. Uhh, just gave her a sit-down and gave it to her straight that if she pushed any more of your buttons, you wouldn’t be liable for what you end up doing to her.”  
“I am **not** violent. What image of me did you give her?”  
“It’s a scare tactic, Mar. I don’t get violent either but she don’t know that.”  
“I question your methods sometimes, you know that?”  
“But they get results don’t they? Let’s just get home and grab our shit. I want to be on that plane by 8.”

Today was in city limits so they brought along Marina’s bike. Helmets on, they carefully pulled out of the garage and out towards the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted the chapter to be longer but it was already long in the tooth. So I cut it there to preserve a story element blocking that makes sense.


	4. Tarmac Adjacent

“You would think 8 o’clock on a non-holiday Friday night would make an airport even a little less crowded yeah?” Pearl complained from the line they found themselves in. Thankfully they only had to check in two carry-ons. Small ones at that. This was a big trip, so they had a lot of their luggage pre-delivered via a shipping company Pearl’s family used for occasions such as this. All they actually carried on them right now was small amenities and entertainment for the long flight.

“How many people live in Inkopolis and the surrounding counties?” Marina asked. Pearl thinks she already has an answer ready, but Mar wants her to play along. “Uhh. 5 million?”  
“Try 7 million. And now imagine that on any given day, even the smallest of smallest fractions of that populace wanted to fly out or in. Say 0.01%. That’s still 700 people a day just from here that want to fly. I can see about maybe 100 people, give or take, from this main terminal. Now imagine all the people world-wide that want to fly here. You get my point.”  
“Ok I was just trying to make conversation, but I take that back.”

Marina giggled and waved her off. “You’re no fun.” Pearl scoffed. “Bitch, my middle name _is_ Fun.” Marina’s stifled giggle intensified. “Yeah Pearl Fun Houzuki. I’ve met your parents. They’re not the type as they are also no fun.”  
“Oh yeah? You need to meet my mom when no one’s looking. Who do you think smuggled me out of the house for thrill rides through the countryside? Honestly, I think that woman secretly rally races with how she handles corners.”  
“I’ll take your word.”

They’d advanced up the line enough to actually see the airline clerk. All they had to do was pick up those tickets and they can fast-lane the airport security. The Houzuki family will _not_ be hindered by such mortal things as stopping to take off all metal and shoes. They pay out the nose every visit because of that, but what’s a few grand a year in exchange for half an hour of your life. “I shouldn’t have drunk that last soda.” Marina regretted. “Can you hold the line for two minutes? I see the restroom right over there.” She pointed far and away but Pearl couldn’t see over the line next to them. “Yeah sure, if I get the tickets before you get back, just head to the checkpoint right over there. I’ll be waiting.”  
“Thanks babe.” And Marina powerwalked away.

Pearl hoped against hope that the line wouldn’t move and yet it does. She’s at the counter before she knows it and handing the clerk her receipt. Normally they’d have gotten their ticket far in advance, but they were unsure of when exactly the directors would give their time off to go until the day before yesterday. It was going to be Saturday or Sunday so the flight could have been Friday or Saturday. So here they are. A day earlier but now having to deal with this.

“ID and Passport please.” The jellyfish clerk prompted. Pearl slid both across. Both tickets were in her name. Marina was going to present her passport on touch down. The clerk typed something after checking credentials. “Two tickets to San Germaine International for Hime Houzuki. Here you are. You are going to be at Gate 5. Thank you for flying with Manzanita Airlines.” Pearl stiffly took the tickets. She forgets sometimes how old her passport really is. “Are those carry-ons under 50 pounds?” Pearl placed them on the hip height scale. Pearl, 47 lbs. Marina, 30 lbs.

“Good. Attach these slips some place secure and proceed to the checkpoint.” Pearl will put them on later. She wheeled the two cases out past the rows and rows of lines. She parked it just before the lines for security began. Dragging close to a hundred pounds got the arms burning. She sat on her bag with the handle as a backrest. Not comfortable but she wasn’t about to go searching for a place to sit. Marina still gone; her mind drifted.

Hime Houzuki. When was the last time she was called that? Probably the last time she went to a school of sorts. Teachers and Headmasters alike used full proper names whenever possible. She couldn’t begrudge them because what did they know? Insistence on what at the time was a nickname or a pseudonym at best would have just been more trouble than it was worth. She liked her academy teachers, but she didn’t like their inflexibility all the same.

After that? After that, she turned 18. Legal adult by Inkopoilitan standards. A name change was easy and pocket change to her. She could leave Hime behind her and go forward with as fresh a start as possible. She could be free.

Pearl wasn’t exactly dozing when Marina got back a minute later but a snapping from her fingers brought Pearl out of her head. “You look a little out of it. Beddy bye time already?” Ribbing brought her all the way back to Earth. “Shut it.” Pearl slapped Marina’s fingers away from her face. “I wasn’t the one who spontaneously decided I made a good throw pillow for the studio couch yesterday, High Queen of Drool.”  
“Oh? Then what are you? At the very least a Countess of Saliva? You aren’t the one in charge of bedding laundry. Have you seen your pillowcase?”  
“Alright, point made. I accept the loss only because we need to at least talk to security before boarding.”

Marina graciously accepted her win and took her back from under Pearl. They walked as arm in arm as they could given the amount of luggage to the checkpoint only a little further on. This terminal was indeed busy for so early in the year. If the holiday travel home ended yet, Pearl couldn’t tell. She approached the first guard she guessed could help her and presented her Fast-Pass and other credentials.

The stout anemone, muttering to himself, led them through a not oft used side gate to a computer terminal. It was separate from the main checkpoint and it lacked the industrial metal detector the other one had, opting for a much more compact set-up. Pearl mentally sized her bag versus the detector’s opening and started making bets. “Real quick. Just run both of them through, slowly, one at a time.” Contradictory demands aside, Pearl noted the anemone’s thick dialect. She guessed way north.

Pearl placed her dayglo pink travel case on the belt and Marina followed suit with her forest green one. They hurriedly stepped through the scanner. Not an electronic peep. Weird. Usually it leaves Marina alone because she’s such a good girl who leaves her metal at home, but Pearl has bad juju with these bastards. Airport’s loss, their gain. Pearl leaned a bit to get a look at the rear end of the conveyer belt. Moment of Truth. Both cases appeared seconds later with what Pearl noted as only an inch of tolerance.

They turned back to the officer. He was barely even looking at the detector; instead focusing on his terminal, pecking Pearl’s stuff into the system. Marina eyed the red light of a barcode scanner beside him, unused. The line skip was a great perk but if this is their staff for the fast lane, then Pearl wondered what that money was going to.

After an eon, he finally seemed to ring up Pearl and slapped security ties on their cases. They were mobile again. Marina half-skipped ahead into the concourse, leaving Pearl to fidget with her bag. “Hey, we haven’t eaten dinner yet.” Marina chirped. Pearl was playing keep-up with her heavy case. “Well the flight comes with dinner and breakfast. Do you want something quick?” To be honest, Pearl was also starving. Their lunch was several hours ago and light at that. Something quick to stave off their imminent starvation. “Well if the flight comes with food then-,”  
“Nah, I’m about to die. Let’s get something.”  
“Ok then what do you want?”

Pearl gave the line of businesses and restaurants a once over. She wasn’t in the mood for fast food but if nothing else caught her eye then it’ll do. “How about that?” Pearl pointed to a little sandwich shop next to the duty-free store. “Sure. We’ll split something small.” At that, Marina half skipped down the aisle. She was carefree but not reckless as she gave traffic ample room. Pearl couldn’t help but chuckle at her girlfriend’s positive vibes.

Marina wasn’t seasonally depressed, but Pearl could tell life was getting to her. She was a slow and steady octopus. The high of stardom and success was starting to wear off after almost four years doing this gig. Pearl gained a little stamina to this life from her upbringing but for an Octoling who had never known such fame and freedom was possible until Callie and Marie waltzed into her life, it can absolutely wear a girl out.

They’d started this whole shindig of doing weeklong outings to exotic locales about a month before the whole subway incident. Marina picked that one too. It came as a surprise to them when they both checked their calendars and there was nothing for a week straight coming up. They get a generous amount of “vacation time” as far as their label is concerned in between tours, but they’re heavily “ _encouraged_ ” to not spend it so close together or a lot all at once. Pearl was considering self-publishing. Shell, MC.Records… Nah. Too bland and self-referential. She’ll workshop it later. Maybe bring the Squid Sisters on board as their first signees. Scout talent. Shell yeah.

Pearl sidled up next to Marina in line who was already ordering. Pearl had a new business proposal but that could probably wait till the plane ride. It was going to be long no matter how long they were able to sleep. She peeked through the preparation window at their order. Herb bread, chipotle mayo (Marina taking Pearl into consideration she thinks), veggies sans further peppers (Coward), and cold cuts. The Original™. Marina walked right past the chips and other add-ons so that cut off that line of questioning.

Sandwich at the ready, Pearl started fishing for her cards. “What are you doing?” Marina asked rhetorically. Pearl snatched her custom OtH credit card out of her wallet. “Paying. This whole trip is on me, remember?”  
“We haven’t left the airport yet. Our vacation hasn’t started yet.”  
“Too bad, I already have my card out.”  
“So do I.” Marina ninja’d her card into the sandwich artist’s hand, who till this point couldn’t decide on whether to shrink into the wallpaper as two idols duked out courtesy rights in front of her.

As Marina signed her receipt, the cashier cleared her throat. She was an Octoling, much lighter in shade than either Marina or Aranea. “[Could I get your autograph? I’m a very big fan, and I might not get another chance like this.]” She asked. Marina lit up like a Splatfest display. It wasn’t very often that either of them got stopped on the street for fan interactions, but it made Marina’s day every cod damn time. Pearl loved that look. Pure joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. “[Sure thing, honey. What’s your name?] She’s asking for an autograph.” Marina said as she grabbed the customer copy. “Calix.” The cashier replied.

Pearl was a step ahead of her as she grabbed fresh unlined scratch paper from one hoodie pocket and her writing pen out of the other. Out of the way of Marina’s occupied eyes, Pearl scribbled a simple message:

[For Calix, a brave octoling]

                -Pearl

She embellished with a doodle of herself she learned to do on command years ago. Pearl slid the scratch as if it were gold bullion, face down to Calix who retrieved it with as much reverence. Calix read the note twice before realizing and stared, wide-eyed back at Pearl who gave her a thumbs up. She embraced it gently and placed it in her jean pocket. “Thank you.” She softly replied in that same accented Inklish Pearl so cherished.

Marina glanced over at Pearl with a curious intensity, then back at Calix. Marina also departed with a thumbs up, catching up to Pearl who ran off with the sandwich. She finally joined her at a table in the food court-esque section of the concourse. Pearl had already settled and started divvying up the spoils. Marina spoke as soon as she made contact. “Alright, Bassanova. What’d you write that made her nearly cry? The only heart around here you’re allowed to break is mine.” While her tone was playful, Pearl sensed that serious undercurrent. “No idea. I think chicks dig an ‘ar-teest’. Told you practicing the doodle would knock ‘em dead.”

They split the sandwich two ways. Pearl was sure to casually slice Marina off the lionfish’s share. Growing girl’s gotta eat. She munched down like a gulper eel possessed. Chipotle mayo was Pearl’s lifeink and only a healthy handful of banana peppers would have made it better, but Marina’s catfish tongue stopped her from pushing her luck. After her sandwich massacre, Pearl turned back to Marina who was about half done. “So you know what I talked about. What’d you, Aranea, and Cymk talk about?” Marina just responded with a quizzical head tilt. “You know, two hours ago? Break room?”

Marina finished her chewing. “Oh I remember, but who’s ‘Simic’?” Pearl gaped slightly. “Wait, you serious? You don’t know her name? Four?”  
“Oh Four? I thought we weren’t allowed to know their names! I always just called her Four and Aranea did too. How did you find out?”  
“I… asked her?” Pearl said, not really sure how to respond. Marina downed the rest of her sandwich and continued. “I thought Craig had everyone sworn to secrecy.”  
“Mar, it’d be a little fucked up to make someone swear their own name to secrecy to close family friends.”  
“But James Pond-,”  
“Is a movie character. Anyway, we’re getting off track. What happened after I left?”  
“You were only gone for four minutes but whatever. We talked about Three” “Trey” “ _Trey_. Aranea is far more forgiving than either of us. Four-,” “Cymk” “ ** _Cymk_**. Told us about how she has a short fuse sometimes.”  
“Go on.” Pearl leaned back in her plastic chair and steepled her fingers. “Well Aranea is overly fond of the girl. She has it bad.” Pearl adjusted so her lower back wasn’t so irritated and chuckled. “Let me get this straight,” Pearl began. “An octoling, due to circumstance and a pop duo claws her way to the surface, to some Promised Land, and falls for the first inkling she sees. One who happens to be as short as her temper. Where have I heard this before?” Pearl’s smug could kill two sharks.  Marina joined in with her own self-satisfied smirk. “Trey’s taller than you, Hun.”  
“ **But** , key similarity, shorter than Aranea.” With that Pearl stood with a start and wadded the sandwich wrapping and bag together. She attempted a free throw into the open can across the court and sunk it. 3 points. The crowd goes wild. “Alright, Sardine Olajuwon, calm down. We still need to find out gate.” Marina gathered her bits and pieces and brushed them off into the can as well.

She made her way past the enclosure of tables and chairs before turning back to Pearl. “By the way, what gate are we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You legally cannot write Splatoon fanfiction without fish puns. Nintendo comes to your house and arrests you if you don't.
> 
> Square brackets are foreign language btw.


	5. In-Flight Feel

Gate 5 was action packed.

Row upon exhausted row of zombie faced red eye victims waiting their turn to ride the flying soup can. Nestled in the epicenter of extreme was Pearl, who couldn’t help but close her eyes for a minute or twenty. So edge of the seat, she had to be shaken awake by her girlfriend. So adrenaline pumping, her luggage felt twice as heavy. Pearl was 90 pounds soaking wet, so this thing was what? Half her body weight? She wasn’t one to rely on bought help like her parents, but Cod, for once she considered it.

“Quit that face, you’re starting to scare the crowd.” Marina had a funny way of telling her to drop her attitude. Pearl blearily scanned the surroundings. Not a soul was looking at them… for once. They were almost in the middle of the line, much to her chagrin. They had first class and in Pearl’s perfect world, that meant she should be at the front. Other people quicker on the draw?  Fuck ‘em. Pay more. Bend to my will or perish.

“Only a little longer, Pearlie.” Marina tried her best to simmer Pearl down. Good hustle, but until she was in cushioned seat with her hand wrapped around Marina’s and not a luggage handle, there’s no sedating her. They ambled ever closer to the ticket handler and after a century by her count, they were there. Pearl handed off the ticket. “Assigned seating row B, seats 3 and 4.” Came the canned reply.

The plane was nothing special, considering Pearl’s definitions. At least it _had_ a first class. She’s seen economy before; poor bastards. They broke free of the confines of the line and the gangway. Pearl found her seat first and rummaged for accoutrements. First her Switch, then Marina’s custom one, a carry case of two copies of several games, and finally a pair of headphones a piece. Marina left her studio headphones at home for obvious reasons. Not only are they unwieldy for such a trip but if they got damaged or lost, Pearl was pretty sure Marina would cut a fish.

The first time Pearl saw Marina lose those was a night she didn’t want to remember. They were at the news studio but how was she supposed to know? They weren’t exactly Marina’s first headphones since coming to the surface; however, they were the first pair that Pearl gave her. She had them extensively customized, probably more than they deserved given how insanely better a pair she could buy now. Shell, she could easily have their label pay for thousands for new studio equipment if it was a money thing. But Marina was a sentimental thing. It was the hardest Pearl had heard her cry over an object. And the happiest Pearl had seen her put her foot in her mouth after swearing up and down she wouldn’t leave it at the studio, ‘I’m not that careless, how dare you’ etc etc.

Burner headphones it was. Pearl pat the side pockets some more and heard a rattle. She pried out the culprit. A small orange bottle. Pearl gave it a shake. Twelve. This was the last of her last prescription and she didn’t predict she’d run out any time soon but there was another bottle in another pocket somewhere. In her main luggage, pretty sure. Pearl slid it into her sweater pocket and lifted the bag onto her seat, careful to not set it on top of any of the electronics. She was about to step onto the seat when Marina grabbed the bag from her. “Nope. You sit right back down. Not after last time.” She rolled the bag into her grip more and hoisted it into the bin above her head. “Come on. I only tripped a little. Nobody was even in the seat where I landed.”  
“No, I can’t have you landing beak first into a hand rest. Just get everything else ready. I need to situate things up here.”

Pearl made her way to the back after waving Marina off. She consulted the attendants in back for a quick can of OJ before take-off and skipped into the bathroom. Pearl splashed her face in the micro sink and looked at the squid in the polished metal mirror. She’d been feeling fine for the last week but the sunken face that stared back told her different. A clean bill of health from the doctor only goes so far as physical and by that metric, she _was_ healthy. Which meant that her pallor, well, more pallor than usual was psychosomatic. At least that’s what she wanted to hear.

Pearl gave a mental pat down. She’s not anxious. Not really. Excited? Yeah, vacations always are. Tired? Well yeah but she’d been getting good sleep all considered. No pain, real or fake. But something she couldn’t shake. She cracked the can of OJ and chugged. Pulpless, like a heathen. This canned shit always is. The sugar gave her a bit of a pick-me-up and for 12% DV of sugar she would hope so. Some of the gathering fog cleared.

Dragging a hand down her face for good measure, Pearl unlocked the door and headed back to her seat. Marina was messing with something. Pearl hoped it was her getting the gaming setup going cause fuck this flight was going to kill her. When she got close however, Pearl noticed it was the orange bottle. Pearl patted her pockets. Gone. When had she dropped it? Pearl slid into her seat, careful of the Switches balanced on the hand rests. Marina had her phone out and was busy sounding out a chemical. “Ah-me-trip-,” Pearl yoinked the bottle. “These are my painkillers. I’m good so far so no need.” Marina shifted uneasily in her seat. “But the internet said this was for major anxiety and mental disorders.”  
“Aaaaand treating the type of pain I have.”  
“Wouldn’t over the counter stuff work?”  
“Yeah kinda but that’s like bringing a gun to a knife fight. It’ll work but a bit overkill and we don’t want a habit if we can help it.”  
“What causes the pain?”  
“Do you know what phantom limb is?” Marina nodded. Pearl was never one to stereotype or go off prejudice but if even the little bits Marina has talked about of military life is true, there’s probably quite a few accidents among Octarian combat engineers. She would probably know a few amputees of various severities. “Well imagine a smaller version of that. No major nerves were damaged, thank Cod, but enough in my back to cause… burning, I guess. Pins and needles occasionally. Most of the time it’s a slight discomfort. Like something is pushing against nerves that aren’t there anymore even if I’m naked and not touching anything. Like I said to my doctor, I take one of these-,” Pearl jiggled the bottle, “once I feel something above a 2, because if it’s above that, then odds are it’ll get worse.”

Marina looked like she was digesting all of this. Pearl sighed. She barely talks about this to probably the one person she should. Habit is hard to break and ever since she left home, she’d had no one to really talk about… well anything really but mostly all this. Various bandmates were right out. She wouldn’t tell them what’s for dinner let alone any medical drama. By the time Marina entered the picture, she’d already unknowingly closed that door.

Pearl slipped the bottle into pocket again. Really digging it in so it doesn’t get any funny ideas this time. “Come on, let’s find something for after take-off. Any suggestions?” Pearl dug through the game case for something fun to play in a confined space. Marina snapped out of whatever thoughts may have been swimming around. “You pick. I picked last night.”  
“Gotcha. I’m feeling co-op-y” She had an idea. She slid Marina her console. “Mama needs a new pair of dual blades.” Marina chuckled back. “After takeoff, Warrior Princess.” She clicked in her belt and took the device, nestling it between herself and the hand rest. Game later, right now they had a procedure to pay attention to.

Takeoff took no more than ten minutes and in no time Off the Hook had a setup going. Consoles: on, headphones: in, volume: low. When drinks circulated not long after, Pearl kicked back in her seat with her soda. It was this reason she didn’t care about the extra couple thousand per ticket: first class kicked ass. Leg room for days, for Marina, and extra cushy seats for Pearl. It wasn’t just for better accommodations; because in Pearl’s case, the better chairs with more movement helped her avoid flare-ups. Her anti-depressant/painkillers weren’t exactly opioids relying on them for preventable stress wasn’t her idea of a good time.

Pearl turned back to her game. Marina had a quest queued up. Pearl already had this monster’s weapon but not the armor so at least it wasn’t meaningless run. Pearl looked out Marina’s window. The last light of astronomical twilight gave the vague shapes of the Earth below. Only the horizon was defined and even then, it was by the barest shades of deep, deep blue of the sky against the void of the ocean. They were due for international waters any minute now. She checked her phone. 9:42. Thank Cod they were going to be unconscious for the majority of this.

They killed time and monsters until dinner was served. However, used to flying they were, they weren’t used to in-flight meals to be served so immediately. Red eye wasn’t their preferred mode of travel. Marina decided on the cobb salad and Pearl, the shrimp salad. She twirled the chilled seafood around in the dressing, taking a bite whenever she felt satisfied on the even coat.

“What’s wrong, Pearlie?” Pearl looked up from her thoroughly mangled dinner. “Hmm?” Was her only reply. “You’re about to bore a hole through the bowl. What’s up?” Marina set her meal aside, mostly finished. Pearl released a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding. “I dunno. I get antsy whenever I know I’m going to be cooped up for hours and hours. I gotta let off steam somehow especially since we’re ‘so-close-but-so-far’ with our vacation.” She slunk into her seat some more just to move something. The cabin lights dimmed. The in-flight movie was about to begin. It could wait.

Marina fished out the last mouthful of greens and bacon before setting her meal aside for good. “I can sympathize though I’ve never had a problem staying still. The quiet. The need to not be somewhere or doing something. It helps me think.” Marina released her own sigh. She collected herself and turned to be closer, leaning well over the divide between them. A single brush of a tentacle and Pearl leaned in too. Pearl spared a single sideways glance across the cabin. Every other passenger was tucking in for the long haul. She and Marina were in their own little world.

“How about this? A story for a story.” Marina said as she lifted the armrest. There was still the annoyance of the gap between seats, but this was leagues better. They both adjusted and soon after were sinking into each other. A soft “Deal” was all Pearl could muster from the gentle embrace of the cuddle.

“When I was young, only in the military for a few years, me and some friends would often sneak out of the barracks to places we weren’t allowed.”  
“Ohhh, bad girl story time.” Pearl still had enough energy for one more chuckle.  
“Hush. I was the usual suspect for any unauthorized sojourns that came up on the system. I was frequently scolded, but never punished. They needed the child genius of Grotto 12 and I knew it.”  
“Grotto 12?”  
“I’ll tell you later.” Marina, not even looking, placed a single finger across Pearl’s lips. Silenced. “Something they never tell you in Octarian schools, military or otherwise, is that the caves would go for as long as one cared to venture. I’m sure if I wasn’t scared of what happened if I breeched the surface, I could have made it back then. One day, a friend of mine, let’s call him Miles, gets the idea. ‘Let’s go as far as we can’ He said. He was young, like me, but he wasn’t some genius. He was a courier between bases. Carried drives and equipment. Anything we couldn’t or didn’t want to transmit.

“A second friend and I were unsure, of course. We hiked a lot but never out of eyesight of civilization. He was insistent though. In many ways he was a lot like you. Never still, bouncing off the walls, shoving some new thing into my hands for me to check out.”  
“Seems like someone had a crush.”  
“Don’t give him the satisfaction. And let me finish my story! Miles roped in another friend, let’s call her Cygnus. So, we as a trio, moved out one day with a ration a piece swiped from lunch. The plan was to be back by tomorrow’s inspection. We set out straight for the unknown. Within a few minutes we were at the edge of the grotto. Within an hour, we were at the edge of where our surveillance stops. A little more and we were in what we called the Old Tunnels. We’d only seen them once before. They have an eerie quality. Untouched for so long. Like a graveyard almost. Perfect for us young ones with such fertile imagination.

“They loop and twist back in on each other a lot, but we had a secret weapon. A courier. Miles wasn’t a traditional genius; he had great spatial sense. After an hour of bumbling around we came upon something. A holothurian nest.”  
“Hmm? What now?”  
“Think C.Q. Cumber but the size of you and not sapient.” Pearl shuddered, half at the imagery and half at remembering that slug. He didn’t do anything expressly antagonistic, but something about him rubbed Pearl the entirely wrong way.

“They’re herbivorous and docile from a distance but territorial when stumbled upon like we did. They charged us as fast as they could. Which isn’t very fast, mind you but there was still a lot and it was like a wall of jelly coming at you. We ran and ran and ran until we realized we weren’t going the right way. The slugs long gone but we were so turned around. We kept walking onward until we saw the tunnel we were in let out into something bigger. What we found was breathtaking.

“It was one of the Great Hollows. Massive voids in the Earth. Places even us Octolings dare not go. It was so beautiful but terrifying. It couldn’t go up forever or else we would see sunlight, but we still have no idea how deep down they go. Miles gets the idea to try and climb down so Cygnus and I try to restrain him before he kills himself. Cygnus took out a flare she swiped from the Armory and lights it. She tossed it down just to see how deep it really was. It fell and ricocheted off the wall into the blackness. We never saw that flare again. It was truly an abyss. Swallowing everything given to it. Oh Pearlie, if it weren’t so dangerous, I’d love to take you to the underground someday.”

Pearl stirred underneath Marina’s tentacles. “You have a weird idea of natural beauty. Most people like mountains and forests n’ shit.” Marina let out a more contented sigh. “I guess you’d have to be there. I will show you one day. I’ve decided.”  
“Can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But Vermiurge! You can't play a coop game on the switch in airplane mode!"  
> And to that I say, the answer is 🌠ＭＡＧＩＣ🌠.
> 
> This chapter went on longer than initially anticipated but c'est la vie.  
> I wrote most of this in a fugue state so if you notice any glaring grammar or structure problems, either comment below or DM me on twitter @Vermiurge.


	6. Terra Firma

The deafening silence raged around in Pearls ears. Try as she could, sound wouldn’t come. She stomped and ruffled and whipped around on the precipice of the cliff. It was like moving through syrup; every flail dampened into a slow, wispy struggle. Whatever sound could have come was inevitably swallowed by the void. Exhausted and fed up, Pearl dropped down. On her knees, her eyes crawled downward. Down past the cliff, past the rocky crags that lined the descent, past the point where the diffuse light refused to reveal any further. Utter blackness.

Pearl wasn’t afraid. She’d seen this. The cliff is new, and the claustrophobic feeling was less than ideal but the sensation of familiarity was also there. A smile broke on her face. Almost wistful. Why, she couldn’t tell. She stared further, eyes flicking back and forth to soak in detail that wasn’t there. Looking for anything.

A crackle like lightning tore through her haze as a blue arc flashed in that endless depth, lighting nothing but itself.

Pearl opened her eyes. Still utterly black.

She swiveled her neck to get a better view, but the molasses pace was back, and it was now she knew why. Marina’s tentacle, with its master still asleep, had firmly plastered itself across her face. Specifically, her eyes. It had a solid grip to. Was that a sucker she felt on her cheek? She lifted a hand to check but that one had its own octo-restraint. The hand that wedged itself in between the seats while they slept was spared though. She wrenched that out and started peeling.

It was a sucker and under it, after Pearl gently pried it off, was a hickey. Non-ink-based lifeforms didn’t know how easy they had it. Inklings and Octolings contuse incredibly easily. Hyper-porous skin does that. Conversely, they also get rid of hickeys incredibly easily. Pearl rubbed off the small amount of ink that broke through and just like that, it was gone. Now for the hand. Gentle as a seadragon, she pried that one off too. It wasn’t suckered on thankfully, but it was gripped to the hand rest. Pearl leaned forward and fished out the last one hiding behind her back.

Pearl wasn’t kidding whenever she told Marina her hair had a mind of its own. Given she lives with them, Pearl could see why she doesn’t feel the same, but this is not the first time she’s woken up strapped down. Or the first time she’s been groped by a stray tentacle. Or her first inadvertent hickey. She turned to Marina for her take on all this. All she got was a gently snoozing face displaying a tranquility she’d kill for. Pearl looked past her.

The brightest sun she’d ever seen shown through the small crack left by the window shade. The rest of the cabin was bathed in that diffuse radiance you only get during sunrise. She rummaged around under the airline blanket for her sweater pocket. She pulled out her phone. 6:48. Pearl remembered passing out sometime after story time but not exactly when. Given the lack of grog, she must have gotten her hours. A miracle that hasn’t happened in some time.

Fully dislodged from her girlfriend, Pearl stood up with a stretch and finished her assessment of the cabin. The smallest handful of other passengers were up as well as a few flight attendants. Where they had slept, Pearl could only wonder. The flight was completely booked from what she could tell, seeing as every seat had an ass. Questions best left to aged sages.

Pearl shimmied out of her seat and made her way to the back of the plane. She grabbed a drink at the canteen in back and headed for the bathroom. The polished metal mirror stared back once again. Prints and smudges grew all around the bottom edges overnight it seemed. Pearl wiped down what she needed so she could get to work.

The pill bottle(s) rattled in her sweater pocket. Pearl rummaged around for one of them. The thicker squat one with the pretty lozenge shaped pills. She popped exactly one and then downed some of the water. The rest of her prescription was circumstance based but this one pill she had to take regularly in the morning. It was fairly new on the market. Approved by the IDA only months before. Her neurologist jumped at the chance to prescribe this one to her. Supposedly he had been following the approval process pretty closely and he’d had quite a few patients like Pearl that could use it. She’d been the first he’d given this to, so everyone was a bit on edge for the first couple of weeks but thankfully her headaches had subsided quite a bit.

She finished freshening up as little as she could in this tiny excuse of a sink before heading out. The walk back to her seat was a little more cramped as more and more people started their day in this tin can. Pearl aggressively sat back down after muscling her way past a dude that was hogging most the aisle checking his carry-on. She looked over at Marina. Still sleeping. Which was a shame because now Pearl would have to _actually_ wake her up instead of hoping her general irritation would do the job for her. She suppressed a giggle as she leaned over into Marina’s airspace and gently pinched her nostrils shut. She didn’t get far in that endeavor as a swarthy hand put a death grip on her wrist and lodged it into the seat.

Not moving an inch from her sleeping position, Pearl could still feel the threatening aura from the seat beside her. “You know I hate when you wake me up like that.” Pearl fought back against the hand and brought it back up to face level. She layered on kiss after kiss on the wrist until a giggling octoling couldn’t keep her grip. “Made you laugh, I’m off the hook.” Pearl sat back smugly into her seat. Marina stretched a little, given her confines, and slunk back into the seat. “That you are, baby. Five more minutes, please. I had a longer night unlike a certain child that falls asleep after one bedtime story.”

“Hey. I was a tired wreck after this week. Cut me some slack.” Pearl gave a playful sneer. “What’d you even do without me?” Marina craned her head back to Pearl’s direction but kept her eyes closed. “Watched the in-flight movie. It was about a Splattershot Jr. that killed people.” Pearl couldn’t stifle the laugh as well as she wanted. “That’s a new one. Didn’t realize you were into slashers.”  
“Oh it was a slasher but not _really_. Very tongue in cheek. I think it was indie.”  
“I think that answers my next several questions.”

Pearl turned her seat’s screen on out of curiosity. Two movies to choose from. Pearl guessed the movie was Trigger from the description. The other one seemed to be a more family friendly movie about a starfish reviving a rundown theater. Pearl had a closet love of schmaltz but that paled in comparison to her love of bad horror movies, especially the ones that lean into their schtick like this one did. She put on her headphones, leaving one ear open to listen for Marina and decided to while away the last hour or so of the flight.

The message that landing would be imminent came out on the intercom. Marina had just gotten back from her freshen up routine. They strapped in and awaited landing. It was a quick affair. In no time, everyone was about the cabin getting their luggage. They made good time getting off the plane in the rush of bodies crossing into the airport. Eventually they broke through and were greeted with the blinding sight of the most sun-bathed concourse they’ve seen. Off the Hook was in San Germaine.

Pearl took it slow after they cleared the rush, finding a second to pause and soak before officially starting their journey. Marina followed in tow while her eyes crawled across the aisle and malls. This airport was far more open compared to Inkopolis Intl. IIX was a far squatter building. A flat disc-like main concourse with satellite buildings on either side being smaller copies of the main one. It was a fine and functional building as Marina, ever the engineering nerd, had explained almost once a trip through there.

San Germaine Intl, however, was like a time capsule. It was new, or at least exceedingly well maintained but archaic at the same time. The main concourse was taller and longer than IIX. Giant chevron arches, at least 50ft at base, rose just as high and formed a half oval across the side that faced tarmac. Each arch was glassed to all shell; tall, thick, well washed windows filling that gap. The interior was a mix of earth tones with stone accent where they could get away with it. The carpeted areas were done in a mottled mix of brown, khaki, and tan. The rest area was furnished sometimes with sleek painted metal or imitation wood paneling. Anything upholstered was either a deep red velveteen or an itchy polyester twill.

“This place looks so damn old. Are the codes even up to date?” Pearl wondered aloud. Marina was pulled out of her own reverie. “Oh, I’m certain. Everything looks too new. This is all deliberate, I think. Very retro. This reminds me a lot of Octeria actually. A lot of structures in the main cities were build shortly after the war and by that point a lot of Inkling/Octoling architectural styles still matched. When I was still young engineer, we would get these huge boxes of vintage tech magazines that we lifted from Inkopolitan recycling centers. We knew they were old and outdated but we’d thumb through them a lot just cause. Maybe we learn something new, maybe it would give us insight on Inkling culture. But this place… kind of reminds me of those a bit.” Marina finished by turning to Pearl with a warm smile. Pearl could feel the ink rise in her cheeks and decided to stow it for now. Their day had just begun, and they still had a hotel to check into.

They stepped out into the bright mid-morning sun; shades donned. They were officially on San Germaine soil. The temperature was climbing and to Pearl at least it was already a bit unbearable, but she was also still in her winter hoodie and would be until they got to a change of clothes. They hailed a taxi and after a wait, they were out to town. First stop, rental agency. Marina was itching to drive, and Pearl was just straight itching. Taxis weren’t beneath her and the Dungeness at the helm was nice (and bilingual) but something about all the horror stories surrounding taxis and their cleanliness stuck at the back of her mind.

The highway out of the airport was light on traffic this morning and they appeared to be making good time. All Pearl and Marina could do is start scoping out the landscape on the way into the city. The airport wasn’t right by the ocean, but it was near enough that they could get a nice whiff of the salty air. Out Pearl’s window, to the right, they could just make out the coastline in the far-off distance. They trailed it with their eyes until they saw the mottled grey of civilization carve a path through the vegetation to meet the blue. Marina let out a tiny gasp and leaned heavily into Pearl’s lap to point. Pearl tried to follow the finger but given how many miles off she was trying to guide her to, she couldn’t quite make it out. “The ports.” Was all she said. Pearl tried again and could only just see the splotches of red and vague outline of massive cranes.

“We could move up the trip to the ports if you want.” Pearl offered. Marina crawled back off Pearl’s lap and seemed to consider it. “No, we’ll have plenty of time later. I can be a good girl and wait.” Marina said with a chuckle. The driver craned his head ever so slightly back. “You girls going to ports?” His Carcinan accent was thick. He was bilingual but not fluent. “Yeah. Some other day though. We have a schedule.” Pearl kept it short and vague. Years of travel advice and experience told her to keep the specifics to herself. “They do tours. Get real close to cranes. Look at big ship coming and going. Brother used to work at dock. Big crab.” Pearl suddenly got real interested in the scenery again. The sides of the highway were speckled with buildings here and there. As they traveled, it got thicker. A gentle gradient of buildings formed as they neared city limits.

From what Pearl could tell from her map app was the rental agency was deeper in. Not quite downtown but a ways into what the brochure for San Germaine called Old Town. The capital, like any city of this size, had districts… boroughs… sectors. Whatever the shell the term was. Old Town was further inland than most other parts of the city. Built along and across the river that bisects this region. Downriver was where things got interesting. Rio Vasta formed the only river delta of its size in Central Cordilla and the floodplain was immense during rainy season. Over the decades of its creation, the challenge of building the newer sections of San Germaine was building an almost Inkopolis sized city on what was essentially a loose, shifty sediment bed. Water is a bitch, but they did it. Apparently. Pearl forgot the specifics of Marina’s rant on caissons, levees, and deep pilings.

They were getting into the thick of the city now. Proper buildings, living complexes, businesses and markets started to line either side of the highway. Their exit was coming up and the crab, still talking to everybody and nobody, pulled into the exit lane as easy as breathing. They could see the city up close now. The true metropolis was still far south of where they were, but the close-knit neighborhoods they were passing were familiar to any urbanite. Traffic slowed down to a huge degree from the carefree highway.

Pearl snuck a peek at Marina. She was doing a lot of what Pearl was; just people-watching from the cab. This part of the city was very lived in, she could tell. The buildings were in mismatched styles compared to a modern developing city, harkening back to days of looser city ordinances on architectural design. Sometimes she would catch glimpses of genuine artifacts of the by-gone era the airport was trying to emulate. Time capsules interspersed with a thrift store Moderne.

The traffic picked up and in no time, they were at the rental agency. Pearl handed over the fair and tip over in the few loose bills she had. The rest was in their luggage, which Marina was getting. She’d exchanged a good deal of Cash to the San Germainian Real some weeks ago. Enough to cover most of their planned physical money expenses while the rest would have to be covered by her traveler’s cheques. They saw off the driver and made their way inside.

A distant chorus of chiming phones and keyboard clacks greeted them. The agency was lightly staffed but everyone seemed to have a job that required their utmost attention. Pearl took the initiative and approached the anemone at the reception, currently working through a pile of papers. “Hey, I’m Houzuki. We’re here to pick up a 4x4.” The anemone looked up. He had an almost vacant expression, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard her. Pearl cracked open her case and started fishing through the mesh pocket for her folder. The folder carried all the relevant documents for their trip and was absolutely Marina’s idea. Pearl produced the small pink slip of carbon paper.

The anemone gave it a once over and his eyes lit up in recognition. He hailed someone else over from the back, an urchin this time. “Olá! Hello!” she greeted them after she cleared the front desk. “I am Cecilia. You must be Marina and Pearl.” They all exchanged handshakes. “Excuse Amancio. He works the front desk but I’m the only one here conversational in Inklish. It’s not rare to get visitors from Ikan especially during your winter months but it is still not every day.” Cecilia jumped to reach the slip on the desk. She was one of the squatter urchins, like the one that seemed to live outside their newsroom. “Ok. It looks like you wanted the 4x4. We have less of those in stock that you would think.” She started out the door and beckoned them to follow.

“We cater to many foreign visitors, but most are on business in the city. Very few tourists.” She continued as they walked around the side of the building into the micro storage facility. It’s less of a parking garage and more of a series of awnings with low-end sports cars, a single Fulgencio Maranello in the tell-tale garish paintjob. Pearl’s seen plenty of those high-end, low-taste bastards at business shindigs her father hosts and was forced to come along. When they aren’t a tacky gold or silver, they’re ChromaFlair. Sensory overload on wheels. The rest of the lot is filled with bland but functional sedans of every variety.

Pearl stopped as she passed by a familiar shape. “Hey Marina! Look!” Marina turned to see her old Coroika compact except in far better repair, body-wise. And teal. “Oh wow, it’s almost like new!” Marina approached the hood and ran a hand up and down the metal. “We keep our cars in great shape. We have to with how rare it is for us to acquire a new one. We know some very reputable mechanics in the area.” Cecilia explained. They continued down the lane until they ran into the final four cars. They were all 4x4s with various makes and paintjobs. “The rate is all the same for them so feel free to take your pick.”

“Which one has the best suspension?” “Which one has the A/C?”

Cecilia was thrown off guard by the questions in unison. “Uh... The black Warden has full A/C and the green Warden XH has suspension tuned for rougher off-road activities.” Marina looked at Pearl with a slight pleading look. Pearl’s response was to take off her hoodie to show how, even though it wasn’t even midday yet, sweat was starting to crawl all over. “I WILL die, Marina.”  
“Fine. We don’t need to better suspension.”  
“Besides. We’re not going deep jungle driving. We’re just going to a trailhead. A trailhead with normal road access. We’ll live.”

Cecilia cut in when she saw her chance. “Well if it’s settled, follow me inside while so we can sort out the paperwork and insurance.” Pearl took her hoodie off all the way and draped it over her luggage. It was way too coddamn hot to be moving around. First thing she was doing at the hotel was abusing room service for drinks.

Pearl ambled behind Cecilia with Marina beside her. Their vacation can now start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy this took a long ass time to write. Sadly for me, the start of the chapter lay on a boundary line of two complete sections of story that, if uploaded separately, would be two too short for my taste chapters, so I decided to combine what I had planned. This is now kind of a beast of a chapter. 
> 
> I'm also going to take this chance to point out to anybody just joining or hadn't noticed but that "Glacial Pace" tag is there for a reason. I take things so and it's far more about savoring the here and now. No action, angst, break-ups, or deep psyche dives. Just two people on a vacation. 
> 
> Thanks for your time.
> 
> PS. As always, let me know in the comments or DMs on twitter if grammar gets fucky. I write these in a unstable state of mind when I should be sleeping.


	7. Down a Gnarled Bough

Old Town was the base of a great tree. A gnarled mass of roots on which the oaken downtown had sprouted. Capillary byways and side roads met up with four-lane roots. Roots that shot for the cantilever trunk that bridged the gap between the old and the lofty verdant heights of New Town. From the roots, it was hard to see the forest for the trees. Getting stuck here, it felt like it would take a lifetime to get out.

The oldest heartwood was the densest culture center for all cities. Even Inkopolis, with some of the deeper sections of the city being there for well over two hundred years. Every new construction project knocks down history and burrows into its own roots to make room. Deca Tower sits on an old apartment building that had withstood the war and famine but not progress. San Germaine was the opposite. Cutting its roots would have been fruitless.

The soil was bad for deeper construction. Bedrock was too fractured and inconsistent for deep foundations, high water tables would cause frequent flooding, poorly designed arterial roads constricted the access a thriving urban center would need. So, contractors and investors went down river. That solved one problem and traded one for another. Virgin land on the floodplain was a fresh slate for roads but the sediment problem was worse, and the water came from all sides. It took twenty years to build a foundation for the first wave of skyscrapers. It was another five before the first of those completed.

So sayeth the liber ex doctrina.

Pearl threw the travel brochure into the glove compartment and unrolled the window. It was getting hot, midday was climbing. Being so close to the sea on what felt like it was going to be a scorcher made it cool but also muggy as shit. A/C pumped the hot air out and the meager moisture control was fighting a losing battle. Marina seemed to not mind, citing ‘It’s not as bad as Inkopolis during the heat wave that one year’. Seahorse hockey. San Germaine lies on the 10th Parallel. Anything Ikan could throw at them would be peanuts compared the ferocity of Equatorial heat and humidity.

Pearl limply surveyed the back seat for her blindly discarded sweatshirt. She threw it back there after settling the luggage. Pearl shuffled under her seatbelt to give herself some extra range. “Keep your belt on, we’re almost to the main highway out.” Marina said, not even sparing a glance. “Keep your tights on, I’m looking for my phone.”  
“I don’t want the windshield a pretty pink if I have to slam on breaks.”  
“The belt is still on, I’m safe.”

She felt the sleeve on the floor behind her seat and gave it a pull. The rest of the hoodie came with and sure enough, the phone was in the front pocket. She checked the time. It was getting to about noon and they were just about out of the city. Good enough time, all considered. Probably setting records for airport and rental times. Despite how much she already just wants to melt into a bed, their day was just beginning.

“I thought you would be glued to the radio once we got in here. What’s up?”  
“Nothing. Really. Just staring out the window a lot.”  
“What, it’s just another country. Hasn’t your family taken you to all of them by now?”  
“Now this may come to surprise you, but my dad doesn’t take fifty vacations a year like other CEOs.”

Marina spared Pearl a confused glance while they waited at this light. “Oh. Right.” Pearl sighed before looking back out her window.

“Sorry. Still new to the whole ‘Ultra-Rich’ thing.”  
“No it’s alright. Anyway, big rich people take lots of time off because they can, and their jobs allow for it. They’re decision makers usually and an afternoon of work can square away a whole month that they can piss away because they sign their own cheques.”  
“We don’t really have that in Octeria. I guess the closest we have is the aristocracy. But they didn’t do much if anything.”  
“Close enough.”  
“I only ever got to see the upper castes once. It was an award ceremony. Youngest member of an engineer team that got a design approved for mass production.”  
“The Flooder?” Pearl asked, turning slightly to face her. Marina was silent for longer than she intended before replying. “Yes.”

Pearl reached across the gap between them to lay a hand on her thigh. She gave the gentlest squeeze she could muster. Can’t distract the driver. But the intent was felt. “There’s not much you could possibly say at this point that would drive me away, you know?” Marina gripped the steering wheel just a bit tighter before releasing the sigh she’d been holding. “I know, Pearlie. It’s just… Not only do I find it hard to find the time to talk about this but there’s still a lot of taboos I have to shake off. They swore every engineer to secrecy on penalty of imprisonment. Us junior engineers had it easy though. The team leads were threatened with death. Them talking was tantamount to treason. Growing up in that environment makes it hard to talk about anything now.”

Pearl mulled the words over before replying. “Well you know I’m here, day or night. 24/7. Any time you want to talk. Cod it feels like I’ve been saying that for four years now and you never take me up on the offer for the juicy bits.” Pearl mocked exasperation. The air was getting kinda heavy and this was a vacation. “Oh, am I just a source of gossip for you now? Gonna post this on Sqidder?” Marina played along, giggling.

“Nah this is going in my biography. ‘Calamari in Color: One Squid’s Journey of Self Discovery with a Refugee’.” Pearl gesticulated wildly as if framing a shot.  
“Oh Cod you are _not_ naming it that. Over my dead body.”  
“Wassa matter? You’re getting prime real estate in my dedication page.”  
“Too much dirty laundry up front. You have to make the audience work for it.”

Pearl scanned the outside again, having slipped back in the comfortable groove again. They’d made it out of the dense side streets and neighborhoods and into more open thoroughfares. Traffic had picked up a significant amount, but they’d missed the morning rush, thank Cod. Pearl took to people watching from her window. While she couldn’t soak detail like she wanted from the speed, it was enough to get a gist.

Inkopolis culture was trend driven to a ludicrous degree. Flavor of the month, flavor of the week, fifteen minutes of fame, rise and falls; Pearl had seen every type. Everything was subject to change. Stickers were huge because of this. They were an innocent vandalism that was mostly tolerated because of their ease of disposal. Custom decals, printshop specials, skateshop fare, stickerbook drek, DIY markers and adhesive paper. Every single shape and size there was, coated the walls and alleys of the social centers of the city she lived. Even more risky, bona fide graffiti was plastered on the walls of their studio. It was expression in its most pure form. The more transient, the better.

Pearl was getting only shades of that here. San Germaine was different. Carried itself differently. More subdued. She wasn’t expecting much from a sight read but it was straining to see the city’s colors. No stickers, well, very few and the graffiti that existed was more tagging for turf. Expression by technicality. Clothes of passerby were colorful but in a utilitarian sense. Hand-me-down on some and no-choice on others. Making do rather than deliberate. Maybe she’s projecting on strangers.

Pearl gave up on people watching and leaned over to look past some of the traffic. The roads collated to meet at a large cantilever bridge. Paredes Bridge, if she remembers the guidebook. The bridge, both as literal as can be and metaphorical between Old and New.

A flash of bright color caught her eye. A large road sign was made prominent on the streetlamp. It read simply, ‘Vila Velha Bazar’ with an emblem she could only guess was the city’s official seal and a large arrow prompting a turn. She didn’t speak Iberian, but it didn’t take a polyglot to get the idea. Pearl turned back to Marina who was smiling away at a thought. “I thought we were going to head to the hotel first.” Marina turned a bit her way, eyes always on the road.

“Well I thought it’d be good to get us out and about. We’ve been doing clerical work all day. We’ve been here for hours now and we haven’t done a single vacation-y thing yet. Besides, the market will be a good chance to get out and stretch.”  
“What about the car? And our stuff?”  
“I’m sure we’ll find parking. And as long as we don’t make ourselves a target, no one will try anything.”  
“There’s your faith in people again.”  
“Hush. You can stay in the car if you don’t want to have a lovely stroll with me.”

Pearl knew a challenge when she heard one.

The turn brought them to a narrow one way with more official businesses lining the now sporty roads. The entire aesthetic of Old Town shifted to something out of a Thalassan burg. While the previous neighborhoods they’d passed were in various stages of urban decay, this one seemed to be fairing far better. If Pearl had to guess, this place was a fancy façade, in it’s most literal _and_ metaphorical sense. She could only imagine the lofts that lie at the top of every café and repurposed warehouse along this stretch of road. It’s Old Town own little slice of gentrification.

They pulled into a side alley indicated by Marina’s GPS. It pulled directly into a packed parking garage where each row runneth over with small beater sedans and roadsters. They climbed into the upper levels, passing row after row. Finally at the top, they found a small cluster of open spots. It was a quick stairway back to ground floor and they were off in some direction. Marina seemed to have a clearer idea of where they were going.

“If the GPS got it right, it was over this way.”

They were led into some turnoff from the main road. It was a bollarded off utility road that crept through a gap in the solid complex of buildings. Without a scaled down version of the same city branded sign she saw back on the main road leading the way, Pearl wouldn’t even know if they were allowed down here. A courser darker tan brick than what composed the outer walls lined this road. It wasn’t very long with the light on the other side being more than enough to illuminate this pseudo-tunnel. They breached into the other side and Pearl took a moment to take it in.

Estação Central dos Medeiros.

Central Station. Opened over one hundred years ago to serve as the commuting hub for a San Germaine just breaking into the world stage. Decommissioned as such about fifty years later. The massive renovation of the surrounding areas offered a unique opportunity to reroute train trade routes closer to the major ports. A new central station with almost deliberate redundancy of the main lines from Old Town made it a hard sell to keep this place up and running.

After the decommissioning, community members banded together to purchase the building and infrastructure. The preservation effort of the building turned into a repurposing and renewal project aimed at keeping it a communal hub. Several hundred feet of track were filled in and paved over with fresh cobble and the rest of the track leading through the city had been swallowed by urban development some time ago. It had been turned into a long arcade of stalls and mongers; brick and mortar shops carved into the walls where there had been ticket booths and station bric-a-brac.

The tall arches of the supporting columns fed into a lattice of metalwork far above, keeping the glass ceiling, long stained by weathering, in place. Geometric patterns from the ceiling’s shadow danced across the floor and walls as midday passed. From the community focused murals that covered the far sides to the lived in and lively atmosphere, Pearl could see why such a location could be this cherished by the people.

Marina had already started for the long aisles that made up the market rows and had waved her over to follow. Pearl inhaled the ambiance a little more and joined her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Age Old Story™ of classes started back up so I don't have at much attention to give right now.  
> This chapter has been in the making since August and it's been a slog. No idea why.  
> As usual, hit me up on my various DMs if you notice anything off. Sentence structure and spelling.  
> @Vermiurge
> 
> PS. The original idea I had in mind for this fic was it was going to be a chapter per day so 8ish chapters all told.  
> But apparently I can't fuckin help myself. Short and sweet wasn't on my vocab list. I checked.

**Author's Note:**

> After the collapse of humanity, Ozymandias-style, things stay more or less the same geographically after 12,000 years. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. The countries, cultures, and languages present roughly map to something current even if they don't seem like it but I'm mostly doing this so I retain a lot of creative freedom. And it reads better, at least in my opinion. So if the phrase, "But that's not exactly how that country/language/culture is/sounds/feels like" ever crosses your mind. Trust me, I probably know. Just enjoy my dude.


End file.
